Trifles
by Rat
Summary: tri·fle / trīˈfəl :verb, To play or toy with something. Short stories about Eliot and the team. Less than 1500 words each.
1. There is a problem

A/N: This is a collection of short stories I have been cooking up on 'Write or Die'. These are all just very short little ficlettes that don't fit anywhere else, and are generally, but maybe not always, unrelated to each other.

* * *

There is a problem. It isn't the rage he feels inside. The rage is something he learned to control long ago. There are still times he feels it busting to get out, but he knows how to channel it. There are times so he goes off alone, to train, or exhaust himself in the familiar movements of what has become his life. Violence. He doesn't consider himself a violent person. He isn't the kind of guy to lose control and start a bar fight, and he doesn't give a damn about defending his honour or defending his point. He uses violence sparingly. He gets paid for it; it isn't something he chooses as a past time. It's just a job. A job he is very good at.

There is a problem. So now, Eliot takes a moment to breathe. A moment to thank God for giving him a new purpose, for changing the direction his life was headed in, and to redirect it towards protecting good people. People like Nate, Hardison, Parker, and Sophie.

And Tara.

It's just that he should have known better than to let her in. They both knew the potential to make things messy.

That isn't even the problem. The problem isn't even that she makes him feel like a bug under the microscope. The rest of the team doesn't do that. They don't ask about what it is like to hurt people; to kill people. They don't ask about his scars and try to analyze them.

"Knife?" She asks. "Is this really from a sword?" She asks, trailing another old scar with her pinkie finger. "What was this?"

"Don't remember."

"What is your deal here? Why do you stay?"

She doesn't get it. That is the problem.


	2. Did you think about that?

A/N: Something crazy I cooked up on Write or Die.

* * *

"Why are you doing this?"

She shook her head. "I had to. They said they'd kill you."

"And you think this is a better solution than fighting them?"

Parker backed away just a little. "I'm sorry. They had pictures of you Eliot. They got close. They could have got you."

"I'm not that easy to get. Why do you think they'd contact you in the first place? What about the rest of the team? Are they in danger?"

"No. It was just you." She played with the lock. "It's a good lock. It will keep you safe."

"I don't want to be safe." Eliot hit the bars on the door with his fist. "Just let me out. We'll figure something out."

"They were going to kill you."

"You are going to kill me." Eliot muttered back. "Let me out Parker. We'll forget this happened. Okay?"

She crept closer. "What part of, they were going to kill, you did you not understand? This isn't about you beating the crap out of someone who is threatening you. These are assassins. They had pictures of you in your home. In your home Eliot. Did you know someone was taking pictures of you at home?"

"No. I didn't know. But, now I do. I can do something about it. I'll watch. I'll be careful."

"You are always careful. Careful isn't what I am worried about. Dead is what bothers me. And so long as I have you here, with me, I know you aren't dead."

"That's really sweet, sweetheart, but still. You can't just keep me here. What about Nate and Sophie and Hardison? What do they think of all this?"

"I told them you were hiding in a safe house."

"There is something wrong with you. You can't just keep me locked up." He pushed away from the bars and circled the room. "What do you expect me to do here?"

"Do you want a book?"

He looked at her like she was even crazier, but didn't refuse.

"I could bring a TV too."

"Just let me out. We'll beat this together."

Eliot sat down on the far side of his 'cage' and rubbed his eyes. Yes, he did think it was odd when Parker asked him to come over to fix a leak in her basement. But it was Parker. He didn't expect anything like this from her, hell, he trusted her. Did, past tense, trust her.

She continued to watch him.

"So." Eliot said tiredly. "You know that keeping a prisoner is hard work right? Kind of like having a pet? You have to feed me and there isn't exactly plumbing in this room. Did you think about that?"

"I have a plant at work. It's not that hard."

"Seriously? Seriously, you are planning on going through with this? You are completely crazy. Like a monkey fucking a football crazy. You know that don't you?"

"Yeah, kind of. Except for the monkey and football part. I'm going to keep you safe Eliot."


	3. We Got To Carry Each Other

We Got To Carry Each Other

* * *

Parker fell. Or maybe she jumped. It doesn't really matter and Eliot is not asking. He tosses her a bag of ice and sits beside her on the couch while she gingerly places the bag on her injured ankle. They don't talk. Neither of them are much good at small talk. Eliot turns on the TV and passes her the remote, and when she settles on Discovery Channel program about the Cairo museum, he stays and watches it with her.

Sophie doesn't interact a lot with Hardison. She isn't sure how to talk to him. Technology isn't something she is interested in. Put her in a room with an art collector or an arms dealer, and she will charm the socks off them. But, she doesn't understand the difference between the Marvel and DC universes, and she has no idea what the secret wars were. She has tried to make conversation. When she asked if Batman will be in an Avengers movie; Hardison gives her a look as though she just suggested Michelangelo was modern art. She doesn't not like Hardison. And when she gives him pre-screening tickets to Iron Man 2 and goes with him, she feels just a little bit like a super hero herself.

Nate depends on Eliot. He trusts that Eliot will follow his lead. The hitter calls him out on mistakes, and Nate respects that, because he knows exactly how big a bastard he can be when his drinking gets out of control. But, when push comes to shove, he trusts Eliot to be there to push back. The thing that doesn't occur to Nate sometimes is that Eliot only does it because he respects him. Nate doesn't know what to do with that respect most of the time, because he doesn't think he deserves it. What Nate does do, is subscribe to all the sport channels and he keep a ready supply of snacks. He isn't completely certain whether or not Eliot is aware of it, but he suspects Eliot is aware of a lot more than he lets on.


	4. Smile

**Smile**

* * *

There aren't a lot of things that make Eliot smile. Eliot often fakes it while on a con, but the genuine smiles are far and few between.

Parker has been watching, but not taking notes. It is a small list and easy to remember. Eliot smiles when someone appreciates him. Eliot smiles when someone thinks they are winning and he is about to show them how wrong they are. Eliot smiles when he sits down to watch sports with Nate and Hardison. Sometimes, Eliot smiles at her.

But he only smiles at her when he thinks she isn't looking. She likes it. He smiled the other day while she was demonstrating a new harness she designed.

"Want to test it?"

"How about I watch from the ground?"

Parker frowned. "You liked my harness didn't you?"

"Course I did," he answered quickly.

"Then you will try it. You won't scream will you?"

Eliot blinked rapidly for a moment. "What?"

"Hardison screams. It's funny. Do you scream?"

"No."

"Good."

Eliot did not smile as she adjusted the straps just a little bit tighter after he finished strapping himself in. Eliot did not smile when he looked over the edge.

"Ready?"

His breath came in short puffs, and she could see the pulse of his heartbeat on the side of his neck. She remembered feeling like that when she first started jumping, and she was happy to see him excited. She grinned and quickly stole a kiss. Eliot's lips felt cool and dry, and he smiled briefly when she pulled away.

"For luck," she explained, and then pushed him.


	5. Grand Theft Auto

The con went perfectly according to plan, which in Hardison's opinion meant it was going exactly how he didn't want it to. There was nothing right about this, and when he had asked, "What if I do it wrong?" Nate looked at Eliot, and Eliot had answered, "Pretend you're playing Grand Theft Auto and everything will be fine."

Why wasn't anyone else bothered by the plan? Why wasn't Eliot bothered? Parker looked relieved to be busy doing something else, and Sophie was strictly staying out of it.

"We'll practice. That way when you do it, it'll seem natural." Eliot had offered.

But what part of hitting Eliot with a rental car was supposed to seem natural? Play acting was fine and all; he didn't have a problem with play acting. However, in his limited experience, there was no way to pretend to hit someone with a vehicle moving 40 miles per hour.

Hardison gripped the steering wheel with both hands as he revved the engine as Eliot's advice replayed through his mind. _Pretend you're playing Grand Theft Auto and everything will be fine. _

Great advice, except for the fact Hardison never played Grand Theft Auto.

* * *

Please review. It makes me happy to know if my story has been read and enjoyed.


	6. The Time Hardison Tried to Trick Eliot

The Time Hardison Tried to Trick Eliot

Inspired by: thebluething-dot-com/media/The-Maze

* * *

Hardison waited impatiently for the perfect moment. Eliot sat on the couch with a bowl of popcorn watching a game of soccer. Hardison bit his lip in anticipation of how awesome this was going to be. It took him a minute to find a straight face again and then began the best con ever.

"Damn it." Hardison muttered and furiously typed something into his computer.

A minute later he made another disgusted sound. Got up, stretched, and then sat determinedly back down again.

Every few minutes there was a stifled curse, or aggravated sigh.

And slowly, exactly as planned, Hardison's frustration to annoy Eliot. "What's the matter? Did your favourite web site give your lap top another STD?"

"Nah. It's nothing..." Hardison stood up and stretched again. "Just, this stupid game I found online. It's all about hand-eye coordination, and I think the thing is rigged or something. I keep getting right close to the end, and BOOM, I fail."

"Why? You get something if you win?"

Hardison waved his arm dismissively. "Not really, now it's more a point of just beating it. You know, it's nothing. Don't worry about it man, like I said I bet the damn thing is rigged. I'm going to just..."

"I'll try it." Eliot offered.

"What? I don't know, man. It's all about hand-eye-mouse coordination, and it's not like you're all that experienced at the whole computer thing."

"You wanna bet?"

Hardison held his breath for just a second. "Yeah. Okay. I'll bet you can't get farther than me on the game. How's that sound?"

"Fine. What are we betting for?"

"The last of the Nacho's?"

Eliot nodded. "Show it to me."

Hardison stood back. Far back. It took Eliot a few tries at first to get used to maneuvering the mouse. "How many tries do I get?"

Hardison laughed. "Many as you want. You saw me, I've been at this for ages and couldn't get past level three."

Eliot nodded and tried again. "Not so hard, just takes a little patience..."

Hardison stepped yet farther back with a huge grin now plastered to his face, and ready to make a break for it.

Eliot concentrated on slowly guiding the little mouse dot through the last little narrow bit of the maze.

Instead of the epic reaction Hardison was looking forward to, the screech and horror movie picture didn't even trigger a flinch. Eliot sat back and laughed. He laughed!

"Seriously? You thought that would scare me? " Eliot got up, stretched, and patted Hardison on the back good naturedly. "And remember, the Nacho's are mine."

* * *

Please review. It makes me happy to know if my story has been read and enjoyed.


	7. Duty

He had moods. This wasn't a good day. Hardison could see that as soon as Eliot walked in the door. Except of course Hardison knew it wasn't just moods, but Hardison had no idea what kind of things made Eliot happy or upset. It was unsettling. Today, Eliot walked in, and carefully closed the door. That was the first clue, because usually Eliot would just let it swing closed. Eliot never... no not never... but he was careful not to slam the door unless he meant it; like an angry face at the end of a text message.

This wasn't Eliot being pissed off at Nate or Parker or anyone in particular, this was Eliot trying not to be pissed of at everyone and being extra careful not to take it out on everything around him.

"Hey man."

Eliot stopped. "What?"

Hardison shrugged. "What? Like I need a reason to say good morning to you?"

"No." Eliot answered, his voice uncharacteristicly hesitant. And that just wasn't right. Eliot did not do hesitant, and Hardison was intent on not being the one to let him get away with it.

"Well, aren't you going to say good morning back?" Hardison asked.

"You didn't say good morning. You said 'hey'. But whatever, if you want good morning, then fine. Good morning. Happy now?"

"But, can you say it with feeling?"

That earned Hardison the Eliot-stare-of-doom. And this time the door did slam as he stomped his way into Nate's office. And not in the tiniest bit, did Hardison take any joy out of being able to annoy the hitter. He considered it his duty. In fact, he had probably just saved Eliot from some deep and tragic inner mope fest related to who the hell knows what and Hardison called it a job well done. That's what friends are for after all, right?


	8. Pets and Pokes

Edited and re-posted January 19th

_Pets and Pokes_

Parker didn't become what she was without practice. She'd studied her own body like she studied a thousand dollar bill. She knew it's limitations and it's strength. She knew how her own body moved, and so she found it interesting to also watch how other bodies moved. She liked watching Eliot, because even though he wasn't as flexible as she was, he moved with complete control, just like she did. It wasn't like how she watched Hardison. And it wasn't like how she watched Sophie.

On the surface, Eliot was all muscle and brute strength. Eliot was, on the surface, everything Parker made it an effort to avoid. Guys like him were tools used to hurt people with.

Eliot could get mad. Really mad. Like after she blew the cable on the count of two rather than three and almost got him decapitated by an elevator. He was very, very angry.

But that didn't stop him from catching her when the guard snapped her line.

He may be dangerous, but not to her.

And so she sat closer, little by little. She took small steps. Like feeding squirrels at the park, move slowly, stay still. She took her time getting closer, getting him used to having her around. She pushed the bowl of popcorn just a little closer to herself so that he would have to lean into her to reach it.

One day she even poked him just to see what would happen.

When he ignored her, she did it again. He scowled, but that was it.

And just like that she knew she'd tamed him. Eliot was hers. Like a big scary pet that would never bite, even after pulling on it's tail too hard.

And now that Eliot was hers, she knew she had the responsibility to take care of him. Kind of like a zoo keeper. So when he came to the office limping, even though he was only barely limping, she wanted to help him.

First of all, assess the situation. His limp was on the right side. Probably the knee. He sat at the couch, right leg up on the coffee table, he stood up putting his weight on the left leg. He climbed stairs, starting with the left, holding the banister just a bit when using the right on the way down. He turned carefully, moving his feet rather than twisting his body. Definitely the knee.

While they sat around the table listening to Hardison outline the next case, Parker poked his knee and he flinched.

He glared at her, then went back to concentrating on Hardison.

A moment later she got up and grabbed a bag of ice out of the freezer and gently placed it on his knee.

He gave her a look. A little confused and a little bit grateful.

Then she sat down again and poked him some more.


	9. How to Train an Eliot

_How to Train an Eliot..._

A lot of the time, Eliot stayed behind the scenes. He was the support guy, not the in your face guy.

Eliot was the back up... unless Nate had other plans.

Like when Nate pulled him out to go find something for the con. Yeah, the others were actively busy, they had tangible roles to play. But Eliot was keeping a close eye on all of them. He new where the threats were and how they would present themselves and how he would get in there to take the threat away if necessary. That was his job.

"Hey Eliot, get me a coffee." Nate ordered.

"Seriously?" Eliot pulled his eyes away from the building for just a moment.

"Yeah, what's wrong?"

"What do you think?" Eliot snapped.

"Well, your the retrieval expert. Go retrieve."

"I'm not your dog Nate. Go get it yourself."

Eliot, of coarse, refused to leave Sophie and Parker without a safety net just so Nate could satisfy his caffeine craving. And Hardison knew that Nate knew better than to send Eliot on a pointless errand in the middle of a job, which made the whole scenario scream mind-game.

Exactly why Nate was playing mind games with Eliot, Hardison had suspicions.

Nate had been riding Eliot for weeks; he seemed to be pushing the hitter just to see how far he could go. Hardison watched and took note of it, but said nothing.

What Hardison did know, was that Eliot wasn't the kind of guy to stick around and take abuse like that. At least Hardison didn't think he was.

... Eliot hadn't left yet.

And then Hardison noticed something else; that somewhere along the way Eliot stopped calling Nate "boss". And Hardison noticed that Eliot was questioning Nate's orders a whole lot more.

Eliot became the first to speak up and tell Nate point blank when his plans had faults in them or when something seemed too risky.

And through it all, Eliot was learning how to say "no" a hell of a lot more often.


	10. More Than One Way In

_More than one way in._

Eliot kind of found it funny. The lengths that Parker went to just to break into his loft... and then to hide the fact that she'd been there. It didn't bother him like he knew it should. But then, it wasn't like she stole anything from him. And he knew he wasn't going to be able to stop her... because it was Parker. No one could stop her from getting into somewhere she wanted to go, so why even bother?

He had fun with it instead. She never talked about it, and he never talked about it. But, when he saw that she'd broken in, he found out how and fixed it to keep her out, only to have her find another way. He upgraded his alarm. She broke it. He installed new locks. She picked them again. He screwed shut the upper window. She found a different window.

It was was even more interesting when she broke in and he didn't know how she'd done it, because he knew she was going to keep doing it until he figured it out.

And just because they never talked about it, didn't mean they didn't find other ways to discuss it.

Parker sat at the bar stool in Nate's kitchen while Eliot poured a bag of chips into a bowl.

He looked at her, she raised her eyebrow, he frowned and glanced up at the sky light.

She grinned and shook her head no...

Hardison cleared his throat. "Hello? We're waiting over here." He pointed at the screens on the wall. "This mark isn't going to put himself in jail."


	11. Considerations

_Considerations_

You don't hit Eliot.

Usually Eliot could finish a fight before it even started, but sometimes he was a little more evenly matched, or there were just too many people at once.

Sometimes Eliot got hurt.

It wasn't often. Eliot could take care of himself just fine.

According to Parker, Eliot could leap tall buildings in a single bound.

Eliot could take a whole lot of punishment without skipping a beat.

But when it came to the team...

"I had it under control. You don't get to make that call." Sophie yelled.

"I know these kinds of people better than you do. They were onto you." Eliot answered, apparently unperturbed by her obvious anger.

"You weren't even in the room with me, so how could you possibly know that? Now our cover is blown and they know our faces. What are we supposed to do now? This man is going to get away with what he did to that little girl all because you got a little jumpy and... Hey, don't walk away from me." Sophie yelled as Eliot turned.

"There's nothing to discuss, I made a judgement call. The end."

She ran and cut him off before he could walk out the door. "This isn't over. I was the one on the inside, I'm the one who makes that decision."

"And we all know how well that works out."

The words were barely out of his mouth when she slapped him. Hard.

Eliot didn't say a word, but there was something in his eyes. It was only there for the briefest moment, but Sophie saw it. And she quickly backed away. Not because she was afraid he would hit her back, because she _knew_ he wouldn't.

Sophie saw it, and now she couldn't un-see it. And she suddenly understood.

"Eliot, I'm sorry."

He rolled his eyes and walked around her and out the door.

Sophie followed and tried to stop him in the hall. She would have better luck stopping a freight train. He stepped around her yet again and kept on going.

"I'm sorry, Eliot." She raced and grabbed his wrist. "Please wait." She asked, and this time he stopped.

"What now?" He turned around to face her. He wasn't mad.

"I'm..." She wasn't even sure what she was going to say next. "Why? Why do you think they were onto me?" She asked.

"The blond guy, Steigleson's body guard, checked to make sure no one saw you go in, and then stepped in front of the door after it shut. He knew what was going to happen."

"From the way he stood?" She asked.

"It's a very distinctive stance."

Sophie cleared her throat. "You should have told me that on the com."

"You were already inside, so there wasn't time. I had to take out the guard and get in there fast."

"I'm sorry I slapped you."

"It doesn't bother me, Sophie."

"I know it doesn't." She said. "And that's why it matters. Because it should."

Eliot glared.

"You put yourself on the line protecting us. You get hit, for us. It can't be from us."

"It was just a slap Sophie. Not a big deal."

But his cheek was red from where she hit him. And she couldn't look away. "And if you hit one of us in an argument. Would that be okay?"

"No. Course not."

"It goes both ways." She watched his face again, but she couldn't tell if it was sinking in or not. Either way, she was determined it would never happen again. Even though Eliot didn't seem to understand why.


	12. A Little Less Conversation

_A/N: I am playing a little fast and loose with the time line of the episode, but I really wanted to imagine a conversation between Sophie and Eliot. What would make Eliot want to pull that trigger that badly, and what would make Eliot have that talk with Nate afterwards? _

**The Last Dam Job**

Sophie: I don't associate with killers.

Nate: Eliot has killed.

Sophie: You're too smart for me to justify that with an answer.

* * *

_**A LITTLE LESS CONVERSATION**_

"Eliot, I think you should try talking to him."

Eliot changed lanes and passed a semi on the highway. "What do you think I can say different?"

"He wants to kill Dubenich."

"The guy just murdered Nate's father. Of course Nate wants to kill him."

"You say that like it's a good thing." Sophie complained.

"It's a normal thing." Eliot bit back the _isn't it_ he felt like tagging onto the end of that statement and glanced at her briefly, kind of glad he was driving and didn't actually have to look her in the eye. Anyway, who was Sophie to know what was normal or not, she was just as messed up as the rest of them.

"What Nate is planning is murder. He's got his father's gun. You have to talk to him."

"And what? Talk him out of something I'd do if I were in his shoes?"

"He looks up to you, Eliot."

And Eliot laughed. Because that was just ridiculous.

"Yes. It's true. When I tried to talk about it with him, all he came back with was that you've done things similar in the past. Like that makes it okay for him to do it now."

"He said what?" Eliot very deliberately kept his eyes on the road.

There was a tense pause. He knew this kind of pause. It meant; how can I say something that's going to sound horrible in as nice a way as possible.

"I was talking to him. About killing. He's not a murderer, Eliot."

Eliot sighed. He bit back another retort, _and I am_? Because, yeah. He was. In the not so distant past. "Dubenich can't walk away from this." He said instead.

"I know. But there are other ways and Nate won't even consider it if all he is thinking about is pulling that trigger."

Eliot pulled into the parking lot and found a space near the back.

Quinn was already waiting.


End file.
